


The Wandmaker's Son

by TheMightyFlynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Don't copy to another site, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/pseuds/TheMightyFlynn
Summary: Irma Pince had never wanted to settle down. She would not be tied down and end up like her mother. Only one person ever made that resolve waver.
Relationships: Garrick Ollivander/Irma Pince
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	The Wandmaker's Son

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [HoggyWartyXmas](https://hoggywartyxmas.livejournal.com/) fest on livejournal, for Pyttan.

She was eleven when she first met him. Excitement rushed through her body as she dragged her mother through Diagon Alley towards the wandmakers' shop.

"Irma, please slow down! They aren't going to sell out before you can get yours."

"But _mum_ …" Irma turned around to see her mother shaking her head. "Mum, this is it! _My_ wand. This is…"

She paused with a deep sigh. It was difficult to be able to express just what she felt at the thought of owning her very own wand. All these years being able to accidentally cast magic, and this one, tiny little stick could manage to help her to control it. She could do magic _on purpose_ with this wand. Grinning, she grabbed her mother's hand and dragged her into the shop.

"Now, Garrick, what is it that… Oh! Good morning, miss."

Irma froze. The man behind the counter was kindly-looking, but it wasn't him she focussed on. There was a boy about her age also standing behind the counter. Tall and thin, his skin was so pale that it looked as though he hardly ever saw sunshine. The lock of dark hair that fell across his forehead only added to that impression. Irma's head cocked to the side.

"Hullo."

The boy nodded at her. It was the older man who spoke.

"First year at Hogwarts, I presume?" He bent and whispered something to the boy, who scurried off into the shelves behind the counter. "Let me just get things ready."

Irma forgot all about the boy, who had effectively hidden himself in the shelves. There were much more pressing things taking up her attention, such as magical tape measures, and boxes and boxes of finely-crafted wands. The old man chatted away with her mother as she tested five wands out. None of them _felt_ right, and she stated that fact boldly. She had waited for this moment for many years, so she was not about to mess it up by claiming that a wand that felt wrong was correct.

" _Ohh_."

The sixth wand did the charm. A bright, warm light filled the shop the second she touched the handle, spreading through her with a speed that caused a huge smile to cross her face. She waved the wand experimentally, and her smile widened as a rainbow shone in the gloom of the shop.

"Oh, well done, miss! Garrick, come here and see!"

The boy shuffled back to the front of the shop just as the rainbow was fading. Irma shot him another bright smile as she waved the wand again, casting another rainbow. The light of the spell shone in the boy's eyes, highlighting his incredibly pale blue irises.

"You see, Garrick, this is what it looks like sometimes. Not everyone will have such a strong reaction to their wand, but _this_ is spectacular." The man turned back to Irma. "Thank you, miss."

Irma couldn't stop smiling the rest of the day. Not as her mother paid for the wand, nor as they moved on to Madame Malkin's, nor even when they stopped for lunch. The quiet boy in the wandmaker's shop was forgotten again immediately in her excitement over her new wand.

*~*  


"Quiet in the library, please!"

Irma rolled her eyes. The Hogwarts librarian was a snippy woman who lost her temper at the smallest things. Making her way through the shelves, she kept her eyes fixed on the book titles. She had known, before coming to Hogwarts, that school would involve a lot of sitting and staring at books. She didn't object to that part of it, really. What she did object to was the apparent disorganisation of the shelves. There should be at least some semblance of order to the way things were shelved, or-

"Oof!"

Irma stumbled backward as she collided with something warm and soft. Glancing up with a frown, she caught the eye of the pale boy she had met in Diagon Alley back in August.

"Sorry," he mumbled before trying to sidestep her. His eyes darted down. "Didn't see you."

"Maybe because you were staring at the floor?" When he didn't react, she sighed. "You're the wandmaker's son, right? Ollivander?"

"Walnut, twelve inches, unicorn hair. You produced the rainbow."

Irma blinked. She glanced down at the wand sitting safely in the holster on her jeans.

"You remember that?"

He nodded. "I remember every wand I help sell."

"Every… _How_?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Just do. You don't memorise things you like?"

Irma frowned again. Her mind seemed to be… buzzing? Maybe? This was a very strange boy. What kind of question was that to ask someone you didn't know? Confusion flooded through her. _Did_ she memorise the things she liked?

"You mean like music?"

Music lyrics were easy to memorise. They constantly played a lot of the songs Irma liked on the radio, so she heard them often enough that she just knew the lyrics by heart. Was that what he was asking?

"Sort of. Come with me."

He moved off in the direction Irma had just come from. She shouldn't follow him, most likely. Glancing down the row of books, then back at his retreating back, Irma huffed. _Why_ would she follow him? She didn't know him and, to be perfectly honest, he was weird. But there was something there, something tugging at her to follow him. Pressing her lips together, she shook her head and was about to walk in the opposite direction when he turned around and beckoned her forward. Letting out a sound of frustration, she followed, trying to not stomp and attract the attention of the librarian.

"What?"

Ollivander stopped at a table covered in books and sat down. "Take a look at this."

Irma's frown returned. "Is this where all the books on charms went that I need for class?"

"Take a look."

He merely sat holding the book out to her until she took it from him. The book was old and small. It had obviously once been rather expensive, as the old, red leather on the cover showed, but it had been mistreated at some point. A strange melancholy washed through her as she took in the peeling letters and the dog-eared pages. She sighed.

" _Wand Woods and Their Qualities_ ," she read aloud. This was definitely not required reading for any of their subjects. "Why are you reading this?"

A quick glance at the table confirmed her suspicions: it was covered in books on wandlore, wandmaking, and wand cores. She shook her head and carefully placed the book back on the top of the pile. Ollivander shrugged again, a movement that his body seemed to lend itself to.

"This is what I will be doing after I graduate. It's my family business, and I will be following my father into it."

Confusion caused a strange pressure in her head. "Why?"

It was Ollivander's turn to blink at her. "What?"

" _Why_? Why would you already know what the rest of your life will be?"

"Well, I…" His incredibly pale eyes stared up at her, wide and unblinking. "It's what is expected of me."

Irma scoffed. "'Expected'? You're _eleven_. How can your career be expected of you?"

If she had a career _expected_ of her from her mother, it would be housewife. She shuddered. She was not going to end up living the life her mother did. No, Irma was destined for bigger things. She would travel, she would work, she would love, and she would _live_. She had plans for her life, and they would come to fruition, whatever life wanted to throw her way.

"Well," Ollivander interrupted her thoughts. "How can you _not_ know what you want to do?"

This brought her up short. She had, of course, had some ideas of what she might like to do when she grew up, just as everyone did when they were children. Famous Quidditch player, actress, and travel guide were some of the things she had mentioned to her mother over the years. While indulged, these statements were never taken truly seriously, as she changed her mind so often. When all Ollivander did was stare up at her with those pale eyes wide, she stuttered out an answer.

"I… I'm _eleven_ , you dolt!"

"So?"

His eyes were so wide, so open. They held no malice, or mockery, just curiosity. She felt like smacking him. Huffing again, she placed her hands on her hips.

"What business is it of yours?"

Without even waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and stomped off. The librarian hissed at her to be quiet as she passed the checkout desk.

*~*  


Over the next year or so, Irma learned to listen for the quiet listing of wand wood, core, and length in quiet corners of the library. Generally, it meant that Garrick had witnessed something that confirmed to him that the wand that had chosen a particular person had chosen correctly. She and Garrick… She sighed.

They weren't friends. Of that she was almost completely certain. But, the thing was, they didn't dislike each other. They worked well together when a professor matched them in class, and she didn't mind his quiet company when she was studying in the library. He treated the books with the respect that Irma thought they should be treated – no dog-earing the pages, or breaking the spines – and offered to share whatever food he had when they weren't in the library. He was… nice.

"What are you staring at me for?"

Irma blinked. Had she been staring? Her brows drew down and she shook her head.

"I'm not."

Garrick's pale eyes sparkled when he found something amusing. He rarely actually laughed, but she found herself being sparkled at quite often.

"You've been staring at me for the past few minutes. Admittedly, you did look like your mind was far from here, but you were staring nonetheless."

She let out a sound of derision. "Was not."

Garrick's lips quirked up at the corner, but he made no response. Returning to his books, his hair fell over his forehead, obscuring his eyes. Irma returned to staring at him.

He was an odd person, even by wizarding standards. He didn't make friends easily, and those he did have were all quiet like him. Exactly how _she_ fit into this equation, she had no idea. She had always been rowdy, according to her mother. Loud and outspoken, she offered her opinion on things no one asked for. And yet, they got along rather well.

"Are you going to study at all?" Garrick's tone held amusement to it. "I'm pretty sure there are people waiting for those books, if you're not."

" _You_ obviously aren't studying either, if all you're doing is complaining that I'm not studying." A cleared throat from the direction of the checkout desk caused Irma to roll her eyes. Straightening in the hard chair, she adjusted her position so she was staring down at the book Garrick was hunched over. "You're reading about wands again!"

His eyes sparkled at her again when he raised his head. "I don't need to know about transfiguring mice into… whatever it is they want us to transfigure them into. I know what I'm going to be doing after school, and _that_ is what I'm studying."

Irma sighed. "You have never considered doing something other than what you've been told you would be doing?"

He shook his head. "Why would I when what I've been told to do is what I want to do?"

Her lips pressing into a thin line, Irma frowned. He was a _very_ strange boy.

*~*  


"You look very pretty today."

Irma nearly choked on her orange juice. Sitting in the middle of the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall, she had been busy reading and ignoring the chatter going on around her. There was no one left at the table that she was inclined to speak to, so shutting them out made the most sense. The nearly whispered words had caught her by surprise, though.

"What are you on about?"

Garrick's sparkling eyes met hers with no hesitation. "You look pretty."

That was all he said as he took a seat across from her. Glancing up and down the table, she opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She had accepted the fact that she and Garrick had managed to make friends with each other over the four years they had been in school together. What she had not accepted, however, was the fact that he could just come out with things like that without seeming embarrassed about it at all. She cleared her throat.

"No, I don't."

Her long black hair was swept up on top of her head in a messy bun, she was wearing the same shirt she had the day before, and she was pretty sure there was breakfast on it somewhere. She had woken an hour later than she was used to, and it had thrown off her entire morning. Despite the fact that it was Saturday morning, she had had _plans_ , and they had been disrupted.

"You aren't the one looking at you, are you?"

Irma sighed. Leaning forward, she brandished her fork at him, but he spoke again before she could even begin.

"You could just accept the compliment, you know."

His voice was quiet. Well, quieter than usual. When he glanced up to meet her eyes, there was nothing there to give her any cause to believe that he was lying. Her insides chose that moment to flutter as nerves shot through her. Casting her eyes back down to her plate of food, she frowned.

"Thank you, Garrick."

Her own voice was quiet as well. She expected that to be the end of their discussion – he wasn't exactly the chattiest person she had ever met, after all – but it seemed Garrick was not about to leave her in peace. Clearing his throat, he waited for her to look back up at him before he spoke again.

"I was wondering…" Something flashed across his face, some kind of fleeting emotion that Irma couldn't quite decipher. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I was wondering whether you have a date to the Yule Ball?"

She blinked. He _knew_ that she didn't have a date. She opened her mouth to ask what kind of sick joke he was trying to pull when she caught the quick flick of his tongue to wet his lips, and the compulsive-looking swallow he gave when she met his eyes again. Was he _nervous_? Tilting her head to the side, she eyed him carefully.

"No, I don't," she replied slowly, a tendril of suspicion trailing down her spine. "Why?"

"I, uh…"

Irma's eyes widened. Was he _blushing_? Her stomach flipped as he glanced away, his tongue flicking out again to wet his lips.

"Are you asking me?"

His large, pale eyes widened in what could have either been surprise or fear. "What if I am?"

It was so incredibly unusual for Garrick to hedge like that, that all Irma could do in response was stare. Neither of them said anything for what felt like a lifetime. Irma's heart pounded in her chest and her skin tingled all over, making her feel like running. She held herself still, however.

"I…" Taking her courage in both hands, she huffed out a breath. "I would say yes. You know, is you _were_ asking."

The usual sparkle to his eyes that she was so used to was nothing in comparison to the look he shot her now. Wide and bright, they shone with a combination of surprise and happiness that had her nerves fluttering all over again.

"Really? I mean, you don't have to say that just because we're friends."

She was unable to help the wide grin she offered him. "Are you trying to tell me I should have said no?"

"No!" He held his hands up, looking as though he was afraid of spooking her. "No, I just… Nothing, it's nothing. I'll pick you up in the common room at seven."

With that, he fled. Irma sat there a long time before shaking her head. _Pretty._ He had called her pretty.

The night of the Ball, her nerves were going nuts. Her mother had been so excited to hear that she had a real, actual date that she had gone out and brought her a whole new set of formal robes. They were of a purple so deep that it was almost black. Her mother claimed that they would compliment her blue eyes and give her hair a 'tone other than black'. Irma had rolled her eyes behind her mother's back, but had accepted that she was excited. This _was_ a totally new experience for her, after all.

"You look nice, Irma," one of the girls in her dormitory – Alice – called as she exited the curtains surrounding her bed. "Trying to impress someone?"

There was a chorus of giggling at that. It was common knowledge that she had accepted Garrick's invitation to the Ball, and she had had to endure a lot of teasing about it over the past few weeks. While he wasn't exactly disliked by the general student body, he also wasn't considered popular. Irma sighed.

"What if I am?"

Alice stuttered to a stop. Unable to help it, Irma grinned.

"What if I am trying to impress Archie?" Alice paled. "Or Darius? Or Sebastian? Or even Keith?"

Each of the girls that had been giggling at Alice's suggestion were now quiet. Irma took a certain grim satisfaction that she could call them out on their nastiness and have them react in this way.

"Think about that the next time you decide to be a cow, alright?"

Turning on her heel, she stalked out of the dormitory and down the stairs, huffing with each step. With each stomp of her feet, it felt as though her anger were subsiding. By the time she reached the common room, her lips were still in a thin line, but her hands had unclenched and her head wasn't buzzing. That all changed when she caught a glimpse of Garrick, however.

He stood a few inches taller than anyone else in their year. That height was something Irma had found useful over the years, as it meant he could reach the higher shelves in the library that she couldn't. Now, however, it was useful in other ways. Her eyes were immediately drawn to him. She dragged them slowly down his body as he turned to greet her.

"Hullo."

There was an edge of nerves to his voice. She bit her bottom lip as she met his eyes.

"Hi."

Well. This was a _brilliant_ start. She smiled up at him as he moved closer to her.

"I, uh, I got you this."

The box he held out had a clear lid and contained one perfectly preserved white rose. Irma's eyes widened as he pulled the corsage out.

"It's pretty."

" _You_ are pretty."

Irma spent the night simply watching him. Garrick had lost a lot of the awkwardness that had been one of his defining characteristics for so long. When and how it had happened, she couldn't remember. They claimed seats near the edge of the Great Hall and spent most of the night just talking.

Garrick informed her that his father was preparing to take him on as an apprentice. Irma couldn't help shaking her head, but she held her tongue. When he asked about her future plans, she still didn't have a solid answer for him, though.

"Do you know if you want to stay in England at least?"

His voice was low, as always. Speaking with him had always given Irma the impression that she was the sole focus of his attention and it was only enhanced that night. With the Christmas decorations twinkling above them, and soft music playing through the Great Hall, it seemed somehow intimate, despite them being surrounded by what could be a hundred others. She had to shake her head in response.

"I honestly don't, no. All I really know is that I don't want–"

"To be your mother," he finished softly for her. "I know."

Irma's insides shivered. This was a conversation they had had often over the years. It always ended in the exact same way: Irma getting angry with him and stomping off. Not wanting to ruin the night with her temper, she stood up from the table and held out a hand.

"Are you going to ask me to dance?"

Garrick sat and studied her outstretched hand for a few seconds. "You want to dance?"

"I don't want to argue."

He seemed to accept that as an answer and stood. Taking her hand, he led her onto the dancefloor just as a slower song began. He hesitated a second before turning to her with a raised eyebrow.

Irma grinned. "Dance with me, Ollivander."

Neither of them could dance, not really. Garrick placed his hands almost gingerly on her waist, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. The music was soft and slow, and they swayed gently to the tune. When the next song was just as slow, Irma took a step closer to him.

Garrick's eyes had always held a certain fascination for her. They were so pale that they appeared to almost be silvery in colour. She knew that that was ridiculous; that no one could have _silver_ eyes. That didn't stop her from thinking that they were silvery-looking, though. In the darkened room, with the lights twinkling and the music swirling around them, she allowed herself that little flight of fancy.

"You are _so_ pretty."

The words were whispered as Garrick stared down into her eyes, causing Irma's cheeks to heat. A shiver ran down her spine, then through the rest of her body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She tilted her head up and took another step closer.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach. One of Garrick's hands slid up her back, holding her close to him. Her focus narrowed down to the two of them. Even the music seemed muted in comparison. When it happened, it was hesitant, almost as though Garrick didn't know how she would react.

His lips were incredibly soft. They weren't chapped, as so many of the other boy's in her year were. The kiss was close-mouthed and chaste, not lasting more than a couple of seconds. Still, it sent her mind spinning.

"Irma?"

She could hear the nerves in his voice. His eyes were hooded and she could feel his hands shaking a little as he held her. It seemed that he didn't require a verbal response, however, when she stood on her toes to kiss him again.

*~*  


Irma's hands were shaking. It wasn't an unusual thing for her when she was with Garrick, but this was different. Pressed into a dark nook in a window of an unused corridor of the castle, her head tilted back, exposing her throat.

"Garrick…" Her voice was hardly recognisable to even her own ears. "Please…"

They had been together for nearly three years. In those years, they had gotten to know each other _much_ better than people who were just friends ever do. She shuddered as he ran his lips along her throat to the pulse pounding there.

"Please what?"

She groaned. "Don't play dumb, you're not good at it." Pushing him back from her, she took in his widened pupils, hooded eyes, and red lips. She shivered again. "I want this, Garrick. I want… I want _you_."

For some reason, actually saying the words was difficult. They had not had sex yet. They had done other things, and Irma _really_ enjoyed them. But… They just seemed to have skipped the part where they lost their virginity at fourteen, like so many others had. She had turned seventeen n a few weeks ago, though – a couple of weeks after him, in fact – and she had decided that it was time. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, she pulled him closer.

"Please."

She could feel his erection against her stomach. There had never been a doubt in her mind just how much he wanted her. The doubt began when she considered whether he wanted her _enough_. Reaching between them, she cupped him in his school trousers. Garrick drew a shuddering breath.

"You're sure? We could just… You know… If you're not certain."

Irma smiled. "Of course I am." As much fun as having him finger her in a dark corner was, she _wanted_ this. "I love you."

His eyes darkened in the second before he leant forward and claimed her lips in a harsh kiss. Irma knew that people's first times were usually awkward, but she had been preparing. The library held information on so many different things that she felt as though she was about as prepared for this as she could get.

"You… You're the prettiest girl I have ever known, Irma."

They managed to lay down in the nook, his long legs only just fitting on the bench seat. Irma smiled up at him as he hovered above her. Reaching up, she brushed his fringe out of his eyes.

"I love you, Garrick. I want you so badly…"

Something in the back of her mind told her she sounded ridiculous. The words seemed to have the desired effect on him, however. Groaning, he reached down between them to begin to unbutton his trousers. Irma took the opportunity to sit up and haul her shirt off over her head, exposing her breasts in her bra. He merely groaned again.

His fingers were unusually clumsy. Panting heavily, he took three tries to try to get one of the buttons out from its hole before she took over. The press of her fingers to his clothed erection caused him to shudder. When they were both naked, she lay back, gesturing him to her.

"I…"

Irma shushed him by claiming his lips in a deep kiss. While she still had what was left of her wits about her, she waved her wand and cast a silent charm, one that would help protect them both, as well as act as a contraceptive. As much as she wanted this – wanted _him_ – she didn't need any form of complication because of it.

"Gods, Irma…"

He pawed as her breasts, panting heavily in her ear. His erection pressed insistently against her thigh, but it seemed that she was going to have to be the one to take that last step. Reaching down between them, she gave him a stroke, causing him to shudder. Spreading her legs, she bent her knees, offering herself to him.

It didn't last very long at all. But, for what it was, it was _spectacular_. Garrick kissed her through it, his tongue roaming her mouth, and his teeth nipping at her lips. His hands squeezed her breasts, causing her to sigh and moan. When he froze above her, his body shuddering through his orgasm, she couldn't help smiling.

"Garrick…"

She hadn't come, but that didn't matter. They would get better at this, she knew. They had a long time to practice, after all.

*~*  


"You _knew_ that I am going to stay in London and go into the family business! You have known that since practically the first time we met!"

Garrick's eyes flashed with an anger Irma had never seen from him before. Standing in the middle of the common room, they faced off against each other with their hands clenched and colour high on their cheeks. A first-year stumbled down the staircase from the girl's dormitories only to have Irma snarl at her. She scurried back up the stairs as fast as she had come down them.

"So, that's it, then? I mean _nothing_ to you? What we have together means nothing? You can just give this all up without a second thought?"

Turning from her, he stomped over towards the fireplace. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a loud breath.

"Don't be a bitch. You _know_ I love you."

"Then–"

"I _told_ you the first time we met. I _told_ you, Irma." When Garrick turned back, it was with a hurt in his eyes that caused Irma's stomach to clench. "This isn't something I just chose to do because there are no other options open to me. I have wanted to be a wandmaker my entire life. London and my father are the very best place and teacher I could possibly have in that career. I cannot risk having someone inferior teach me, because it could mean that I end up making inferior wands."

When Irma reached for him, he took a step back. She flinched. She had never seen him like this before. This kind of fire, this passion, she had only seen him express it for her before. Nothing else had lit his face up in the way she did. It sent pain lancing through her chest in a way that she had never felt before.

"London. I…" She sighed and turned away. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, hoping she could hold back the tears she could feel threatening. "I can't stay in London, Garrick. I can't stay in _England_. It's too…"

She had to stop. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she closed her eyes. London was suffocating. London was normal, and bland, and boring. London was her _mother_. She jumped when Garrick reached out to grasp her shoulder.

"You are _so_ pretty…"

The tears did come, then. Turning, she threw herself into his arms. This was it, then. After three years, and being able to weather all the giggling and taunts, the thing that broke them up was to be her inability to stay in one place, and his duty to his family. She could hear him speaking – apologising, murmuring promises that they both knew he couldn't keep – but she didn't listen. Just standing there in his arms, she knew that this was the end of what they had together.

*~*  


Irma spent her life travelling, just as she had always planned. She never stayed in one place more than a couple of months. After learning something of the culture of the place she was staying, she would thank her hosts and leave. It was a life she _loved_. Having no ties after her parents died, she simply drifted, living a life that she had always wanted.

She was happy and content. She had many lovers all over the world, but none whom she had felt the urge to stay for. And they never expected her to. She would drop into their city, spend however long with them that she wished to, then move on. It was the same with her friends.

Egypt was a particular favourite of hers. Davide and his wife Fatima always accepted her into their home and, in exchange – because they would never have accepted rent from her – she would teach their children some of the new spells she had learned on her travels.

And the _books_! Old, new, falling apart, it didn't matter the condition, but she had accrued quite the collection over the years. Not all of them were spell books, either. Some of them were Muggle in origin, like her silly little romances. Others were of a dubious origin that she never allowed the authorities to see. They all travelled with her everywhere she went, in a magically-enhanced bag.

She knew she couldn't travel forever, however. As she aged, it became more and more of a difficulty to move her things with her. What she needed, she realised, was a base of operations. Somewhere she could keep the things that she didn't need right in that very moment. Just as she was beginning to think this way, she received an owl from Albus Dumbledore.

She had not thought of her old professor in many long years. She had, in fact, spent all of the time when the war had first started for real in the seventies exploring the darkest parts of South America. Avoiding that kind of danger was second nature to her now and she believed she had a sixth sense for it. The contents of the message surprised her.

_We are in rather desperate need of new staff. I am aware of your travels, and have been keeping a loose eye on your progress, as I do with many of my ex-students. With that in mind, I wish to extend an offer to you._

_With your knowledge of texts, and experience handling all kinds of dangerous tomes, I believe that you would be the perfect fit as our new librarian. You are intelligent enough that none of the students would be able to smuggle a book out of the library under your nose, and can manage to protect the students from some of the more unsavoury tomes we must keep in stock at the school…_

Irma sat and stared down at the letter for what felt like hours. Dumbledore had always had the ability to hand someone something they were thinking about just as they began to think they needed it. How it was he managed it, no one seemed to know. But he had managed to do it again, it seemed. Just as she was thinking about finding somewhere to settle down, he offered her a lifeline.

England. Well, Scotland, really. But, still. _Home_. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea.

*~*  


"You are still the prettiest girl I have ever known."

It was the first time Irma had heard that quiet voice since her seventh year at Hogwarts. Turning slowly from the stack of books she had been sorting, her eyes widened.

"Garrick."

"Irma." His pale eyes still sparkled, even after so many years. "It has been too long."

Too long… She smiled.

"Nearly sixty years."

"They have treated you well."

He was full of it, she knew. She was almost eighty years old – as was he, for that matter – and she looked it. She had been the Hogwarts librarian for nearly thirty years now, and the stress involved in such a job had taken its toll.

"I still do not believe you, you know."

Garrick smiled at her. The sight was something she had missed on and off over the years, each time she thought of him. He had always had such a nice smile.

"Perhaps you would allow me to attempt to convince you?"

Irma stared down at the hand he held out to her. She had calmed down a lot in her old age. They were not the same passionate children they had been when they had broken up so many years before. She was not travelling and he had performed his duty by his family. She glanced up to see his eyes sparkling at her again. Taking his hand, she smiled.

"Perhaps. We shall see how it goes."

This time, when he suggested that she stay in London, she did not object. It was time for her to settle down and put down some roots.


End file.
